


Fate's a funny bitch

by Exces_KaboomBOOM



Series: Gavin's a sad bitch; a memoir [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Horror, M/M, Manipulation, Nines got free will and he's freely obsessing over Gavin's dumb ass, Police Brutality, Protests, Spit Kink, Stalking, Swearing, Violence, alien - Freeform, prometheus!au, thank u next
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-16 15:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16956360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exces_KaboomBOOM/pseuds/Exces_KaboomBOOM
Summary: Here will be posted various one-shot of AU's for the Gavin900 pairing... I'm talking human!AU, Prometheus!AU, horror movies etc.... So stay tuned if that's your jam!One shot #1: Gavin's an ACAB ex-cop; Nines a bastard riot cop. "Maybe love only happens in violence, for him."One shot #2: Nines' a DAVID series issue android; Gavin's a reckless anti-robot stupid bitch. Prometheus!AU "He was… alive."





	1. ACAB!AU

**Author's Note:**

> I’m the kind of occasional writer that only write for fun and games and because I like it, in the end. I’m working on my storytelling skillz, but the writing aspect is really one of my fav. Just gotta write and that’s it, you create a skeleton, and add flesh, details and hidden surprises. Occasional writing is good to me. And welcome back, Detroit fandom! I’m only back because you kind of changed my life lmao.  
> Beta-read by Dani, mi amor, my special lil biche, who's my girlfriend BECAUSE OF THAT MF PAIRING lmao... Istg, life's wild! Thank you fandom, and thank you Dani! <3

**_I’m so fucking grateful for my exes_ **

 

He thought he had found the guy of his life with Chad; that son of a cow had dreamy lips and abs for days, some proper pretty eyes and a smile flashing brighter than his future. But, _eh,_ that story had finished just as badly as the ones before; the looks don’t make everything, and everything that was beautiful in Chad was mostly covering a rotten narcissist.

Not that Gavin has any standard in regard to good persona, and he barely has the looks himself. He somehow still manages to snatch some decent looking guys in the end, who are either turned on by his cop status or trying to murder his pig ass in his sleep.

Anyway, romances seem more and more to be his deadly kryptonite. He’s almost thirty-five, the dark bags under his eyes are starting to eat half of his face and his dog is not getting any younger. Maybe he needs to be more realistic.

Stop chasing false promises.

Gavin just ain’t made for any loving. ‘Should have picked up the clues from his shitty personality. ‘Isn’t his fault, though, it’s because of all those stupid romcoms that promised him a beautiful soulmate story at some point in his life.

His hands are sticky from all the ice cream he’s been eating. His post-breakup mood glued his ass to the couch and he’s been binge-watching horror anthologies for two days straight. He barely slept, but he’s gotta go to work. He’s got a junior to train. He’s gotta be his best self — which… Eh, isn’t that great to begin with.

(Not everybody can be as cool and handsome as Anderson, okay? That fucking son of a gun will always be the almost-best Gavin never had.)

After a good shower and a coffee with two shots and cream, he’s now driving for work, listening to the radio. Ariana Grande’s latest hit had been playing on repeat on most stations and he has found himself to really embrace the lyrics.

Not the part about thanking his exes, nah, but the one about loving himself. He’s about to do that. He’s gonna work on that. That’s his new year resolution — that way he still have three months to fuck that good spirit over a couple of times.

“Thank you… _Next!”_ Gavin sings and dances, stopped at a red light.

He doesn’t have a lot of friends. Colleagues, yeah, some good ones. Tina’s a good buddy. An angel sometimes. He would’ve proposed to her eons ago if she wasn’t already snatched.

He’s kinda scared of aging alone but, eh, that’s fate. Gotta embrace that too.

“She taught me love, she taught patience, how she handles pain, that shit’s amazing…”

A car behind his honks furiously because the light just turned green. Geez, bitch, take a chill pill, it’s fucking Monday for fuck’s sake.

Gavin’s about to start the engine when the car behind just passes him by and gives him the finger, driving so close and fast that it manages to snatch away his right wing mirror.

“You fucking fart face!”, he screams at the disappearing car.

He pulls over to note the numbers of the car’s plate and the model, mourning over his hurt car. He loves his trashy wagon, that ain’t fair that some asshole can just take their frustration out on it. Gavin would have prefered a punch in the teeth, for real. He doesn’t have to pay for his face, and some new scars could be cool.

“Totally unfair,” he mumbles, typing on his phone.

He calls in the precinct to give the car’s identification numbers away, in hope they could find it by the time he arrives at the office.

He likes to park far from it so he can buy some coffee off the sidewalk near the newspaper’s booth. It’s kinda shitty but damn the barista’s so sweet, it always makes him a little bit happier.

Of course, she’s not here today. Instead is her son who snorts at him ‘cause he’s a punkass bitch who already got an _ACAB_ tattoo across his hand. Gavin understands, in some way, the appeal. He doesn’t like cops either. Maybe that’s why he became one, too. ‘Cause he hates himself.

“Thanks,” he addresses the kid who just sneer at him, but Gavin’s still tipping him. Gotta sleep at night. Gotta be less of an asshole to other assholes, it’s supposed to be good for the karma, etc.

The car who destroyed his is parked in front of the police station. Gavin’s surprised, but not enough to not key it a fair amount — in the shape of a dick, because you gotta draw what you eat, or something like that. He spits some of his drink on the front window, for good measure. Take _that,_ you sneaky stressed wanker.

He’s greeted by Anderson whose smile invites Gavin to smile in response. _Finally,_ a good thing in this damn day. Hank’s welcoming aura is comforting, and kind, and —

“Your junior looks a mess,” Anderson chuckles, “good luck training that feral pup, Reed.”

Gavin’s smile drops.

That’s the bitch who broke his car!

He’s about to bad talk him but he gets interrupted by Hank, who’s still ranting like _that’s_ what he’s paid for;

“He’s eye-candy, though. The name’s Connor. Don’t hesitate to send him my way if he ever needs some help.”

Gavin catches the motherfucker’s eyes across the room, Hank’s words still echoing in his ears; then, that Connor-cunt smiles his way a polite, yet superior smile, and that’s it. The last straw.

“I quit,” Gavin says. “He’s your junior, now. It’s out of my hands. I gotta go.”

“What’s you’re babbling about, Reed?” Hank inquires, not entirely worried. “You’ve been dumped again?”

That hurts, but also that’s what it is; Gavin’s bored of the pile of shit waiting for him everyday. He’s no good deed. He’s gonna change his way, make some choices. Be his best _acab_ self.

“I’m out. Tell the Lieutenant — _whatever._ I don’t give a shit.”

He runs out as quickly as he went in. He quickly texts Tina about the news, so she doesn’t have to wait for his ass in case they’d been called on a crime scene. She replies multiple question marks, but that’s it. Maybe she also knows that was ‘bout to happen. Fate and shit and all.

Because his car’s parked away, Gavin cannot really afford a grand departure by honking and annoying the shit out of the cops at the entrance of the precinct. He still tries his luck at the young coffee boy, telling him;

“I just quit my job. Can I get a refill?”

The barista smiles a true, glorious smile at him. “Yeah, of course. On the house.”

Gavin’s more than surprised, but also very pleased to be felicitated for his change of heart — and career, future and stability. He reads on the boy’s chest tag the name _Markus_ , and thinks about what would make a boy like that hate the police at such a young age. Must be ‘cause he’s a young black man, he thought, or maybe he’s seen some hard shit already. Who knows. It’s none of his bizzshit.

The kid hands him his coffee, still gleefully smirking. He’s also sliding a piece of paper under the cup; a pamphlet of some sort about an event at the city art college.

“Come join us,” Markus tells him, “it’s this weekend and we’re preparing a manifestation against police brutality. You should do some good and help us secure a safe path for our protesters.”

Unable to say anything smart about that, Gavin simply nods. Why the fuck not? He never was a rebellious child. It’s time to make some trouble.

***

Gavin arrived on the campus with his huge cup of coffee and no expectations. Still, he’s kinda freaking out of his mind. _Maybe_ he should’ve checked the event before deciding to come help.

Markus had talked about it so casually, Gavin had thought they’d sit in a circle, prepare a moral speech and he’d have tipped them on how to avoid most of the cops’ attention.

Instead, he finds himself surrounded by hundred of young faces, not all students but most of them, _yeah_. Markus’ nowhere to be seen. There are tons of cool and trashy boards with activist messages — and he only painted a red ACAB on the back of his jacket, thinking he’d be clever for it. As always, he’s dumber than he looks; he even amazes himself, sometimes.

He feels bad now for looking so nonchalant about being part of a march. He was a cop this Monday, today he’s unemployed and without real goal. Maybe he should become an art major too; he could make a furious painter, or at least a decent model.

(He’d date the teachers, though, not the students. He’s no cougar, nor twink lover. Jizz enthusiast, yes, but the more matured the better. Damn, that sounded grossier than he had anticipated.)

“Let’s begin the parade now!”, a voice-over from a mic rises somewhere in the crowd. “Remember to stay safe and record anything that could save your skin!”

Gavin knows that voice. God, that Markus clown is more extremist than he expected. Already a fucking leader in his twenties, Gavin’s jealous. The kid got more guts at this age than Gavin ever had. He’s both impressed and pissed. That week just keeps on getting stranger and so.

He starts walking faster, pushing his way into the head of the march in the hope of catching a glimpse of the barista-slash-messiah-in-becoming.

They barely started but they’re already goddamn noisy. The streets awake and tremble with their rhythmic steps and their words. It’s definitely part magic to see a city being conquered from the eyes of the unwelcomed. The sun shines differently. The air tastes better.

God, Gavin wants to see Detroit burn under thousands of fires of revenge and justice. He feels guilty for the years he spent on the other side, breaking jaws and dreams of protesters. He kinda knew he missed on life, but never like that exactly. He wants to defend every last one of those kids. They’re the future. He’d die for them.

“No justice, no peace!”, they scream, and Gavin screams with them. They’re all one huge visceral voice, crawling under the pavement, eating concrete and spitting its pieces to the sky.

Today’s a revolution.

A glass bottle shatters somewhere.

“Pigs alert!”

The cops are here. And not only them, oh no; Gavin knows those alarm sounds. Ain’t gonna be some quiet kettling today; no peace, because still no justice. The dogs bark far ahead. It’s the riot police; they have gas bombs and weapons. This is the beginning of a bloodbath.

He finally catches Markus at the head of the parade, forcefully linking arms with other young folks, a skinny blond white shitface and a muscular, stunning black guy. God, that’s motherfucking courageous but it’s gonna end up costing them their pretty faces. Gavin throws elbows and runs at their level. He grabs the mic, despite Markus’ complaints;

“Y’all! This is no ordinary cops! Those ones have the rights to print your brains onto the fucking pavement!” The silence is heavier than their previous chants. “Go, for fuck’s sake! Fucking run!”

Even Markus looks sheepish. Gavin shakes him by the shoulders, trying his best to smile;

“It’s gonna be okay. They won’t open fire if they see you flee.”

“We’re here to prove a point!”, Markus still manages to reply.

“They’re not the ones that will listen to you, kid. Trust me. Better stay in one bit and walk another day, you hear me?”

Markus nods.

Another glass bottle shatters. Right. On. A. Cop’s shield.

The fires start everywhere, smoke rises rapidly over their heads and the crowd is getting charged by the police with no warning.

Gavin throws himself in front of Markus, gesturing for him to _fucking_ run, and receiving his first hit of the day. There are definitely better ways to spend a Saturday, but he’s known worse.

He kicks his face forward, blinded by blood and smoke, aiming his feet against tibias and hands — weak spots where it’s possible to disarm some of them.

He grabs a shield and continues head first, punching randomly just to give some of of the protesters enough time to escape; if at least one of them gets their ass safe because of him, he’ll rest easy. At least the food’s free in prison. _Sort of._

“Die you fucking scum!”, a cop yells at his face, spit spraying across his eyes.

“ _You_ die, rotten piece of dick!”, Gavin answers as loudly, headbutting them in the nose. Blood runs on the other’s face, and Gavin smiles, fucking proud of himself. He won’t get down without a fight.

“How dare you!”

The cop charges at him so fast they both tumble on the ground, in between broken glass and plastic helmets.

Gavin overpowers them in a forceful hip movement, punches whatever he finds under his fists. Realizes the cop’s fucking gorgeous, with eyes blue like some dreamy beach sea. Looks at those kissable bright red, bloody lips. Gets so distracted that he receives a fist straight across the nose, already scarred.

He sees stars, both from the punch and the lovestrucking.

He falls backwards, his vision fading black for a couple of seconds. The cop stands over him, helmet and shield gone, strong forearms covered in sweat and blood.

“You had enough, little rat?” The cop calls, almost spitting over him.

Gavin likes that idea, now.

“Never”, he laughs, tasting dirt and iron on his tongue. “What about making love instead of war?”

“I beg your _fucking_ pardon?” The cop chokes.

Gavin chuckles, blood spitting out of his mouth like a sweet face fountain.

“You can beg, babe, but I’m already under you, so…”

“Must have hit you too hard, shit,” The cop grumbles, not as angry anymore. He looks so much like that asshole Connor from the precinct. Yet, way more sexy and aggressive. And definitely not at the same jobs, unless he’s been sucking his way out of the office all week long.

Fake-Connor flips him over to handcuff him with plastic straps and pulls Gavin up, definitely to bring him to the nearest police station. He doesn’t think he can flirt his way out of this one, but he can still try to pull a date out of it.

“You bringing me home, officer?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Fake-Connor replies, more annoyed than anything. He wiped the blood off his nose across his uncovered forearms. Fuck that’s hot, Gavin’s gonna piss his pants in two seconds at this rate.

“You know, sir, I’m all for foreplay and shit, but I like romance too, you know?”

“Are you deaf, punk?”

“I’m only asking for a date, just one. I’m sure I can make you laugh.”

The cop’s furious again, roughly pushing Gavin against the police’s car with his whole body. He knows this is supposed to be intimidating, that he’s supposed to be afraid of that stupid cop who’s way, _way_ out of line — but Gavin knows what he’s truly made of. Mostly big words, lots of misplaced anger issues, yet a strong (false) of wrong and right. He knows those kinds of fucked-ups fuck really good.

“You know any Connor, by any chance?” Gavin asks, instead of continuing his flirting. Gotta throw him off-balance before he offs him for good. He only gets a growl back.

“I was a cop until this very Monday,” he continues, feeling the pressure against his back growing heavier, “until an asshat was assigned to be my junior. I swear to baby Jesus, the motherfucker looked a good deal like you. Anyway, that bitch crashed my ride’s wing mirror right before we ever met and you know what? He made me quit. That son of a cow made me lose it for good. So… Any chance you two ferals are related?”

The pressure doesn’t leave him. Gavin can feel a breathing in the inside of his ear, menacing. He’s getting ready for a new head smash, but gets a reply instead;

“You wanna fuck my little brother, Detective Reed?”

_“Fuck no!”_ Gavin spits back, trying to free himself now, irritated. “I was trying to fuck you, you stupid bitch. Ain’t a fucking detective anymore, by the way!”

Fake-Connor laughs hard behind him, his laugher vibrating right into Gavin’s own bones. The feeling is strange, it feels alien, yet something happened — a miracle perhaps; the asshole finally cracked his cool facade.

(Gavin always has to fall for the dangerous, stupid ones. He really deserves all the shit he ever got.)

“Why the fuck you know my name, jerkass?”

“Connor has been babbling about you all week. He feels bad, you know.”

“I don’t give a flying shit about his feelings getting hurt! Fuck the police!”

“Oh, so that’s why you were trying to get into my pants as I was beating you up?”

“Bitch, come on, _I_ was destroying _you.”_ Gavin replies playfully, pleased to notice Fake-Connor now flirting back. “By the way, you’re a fucking disaster. You beat me up like I personally killed your dog. You okay, dude? You should get your head checked, you absolute psycho.”

He only laughs more in Gavin’s ear, warmly, viciously more honey-like.

“I’m Niles. You punched first, that was simple self-defense on my part.”

“Don’t bullshit me, I’ve been on your side, I know the script. Save it for the judge.”

“Would you drop the charges if I agreed on your date?”

God, that’s super messed up, but… “Yeah, definitely,” Gavin nods up and down, hitting his chin on the car’s roof, yet again too horny to think coherently.

_“Meh,_ why not. Still have to deliver you to jail, though.”

“You could bail me out,” Gavin offers, “‘could be our first date.”

“I could,” Nines admits. “But what’s the fun in that?”

He _finally_ pushes him in the police car, instructing another piglet to drive him to the station. He rapidly writes down the reason of this arrest and his identity, giving him to the driver, and slipping another piece of paper in Gavin’s front pocket. Niles tells him, slouched over the open window;

“I only beat you up because I knew it was you, stupid ass bitch. You look prettier when you get messed up.”

“Same goes for you, princess.”

Nines gives him the finger — must be a family trait — and taps the car’s roof so it takes off. Another guy’s in the back with Gavin, looking at him, half-disgusted, half-scared.

“What?!” Gavin inquiries, “I’m attracted to the wrong guys, okay? Don’t fucking judge me, you got caught too, _bitch.”_

The kid stays silent.

Gavin grabs the piece of paper with his teeth, opening it up between his knees. Scribbled on it are the words:

_Call me at this number if you want. I’ll bail you out if you promise to go back to the precinct to humiliate Connor once more. That shithead needs some teaching about manners. You too, by the way. But that will be my job from now on. See you soon, bitch._

_N_.

Gavin splatters blood all over the paper by giggling. He never dated cops before, but now that he’s on the other side of the mirror, what’s stopping him? It’s his time to experience the uniform kink and the stupid roleplaying. And who knows?

Maybe love only happens in violence, for him.


	2. Prometheus!AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines' a DAVID series issue android; Gavin's a reckless anti-robot stupid bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been ages since I’ve seen Prometheus, I surely saw it when it came out (when was it? 2011?) and anyway, I’d punch Fassbender in the face but his David was so creepy it never really left my field of possible characters. I didn’t see Alien: Covenant so no spoiler about that. No spoilers at all, really. Just space jizz shenanigans, alien juices and horror. Happy reading, yall!  
> And yet again….. Thank you to the love of me life for the proof reading, Dani you’re my angle i love you clown ass!

**_I wanna tear you apart_ **

 

His programmers had over-packed his memory with so many useful yet useless things; mostly tasks and skills to entertain the illusion of his human-like facade. But with no humans around him yet, the whole charade felt dull and a sad waste of his abilities. He could have done this mission by himself, for one — and why on earth had his developers given him self-esteem, as well? Two, he didn’t like the thought of having to play games and manners to gain humans’ trust. Thinking about having to take care of others was simply a drainful thought, in his case.

(Maybe a social software was simply broken inside him, maybe was he a dysfunctional android sent by mistake on a life-changing space mission. Not that it was his business to deal with it now.)

The silent ship has been his for years now. He knew it by heart, as a figure of speech; he most certainly knew each of his details and particularities; which corners were darker and harder to clean; which chair will give the less back support to a humanoid teammate; which floor detergent was the most effective to clean his hair color mix off white, clinical tiles.

Why was he created with a set a hair that he was instructed to color each new month? It would have been easier, less… _Wasteful,_  to give him dark hair from the beginning. Was it again one of the humans’ rituals to make him blend in more easily? He was definitely not as emphatic to those creatures’ afflictions as the DAVIDs’ ads lead to believe.

His colleague Connor, an inferior model sent ten years ago on a similar mission, had been of that particular line of thinking. He was calm and collected, yet lovingly interested by humans and their disturbing habits and numerous flaws.

It had even been rumored that he had entertained a physical, forbidden _collaboration_ with his Lieutenant, Hank Anderson.

Were they all built with pleasure capacities, in giving or receiving it? Pain was a concept given to him, but more on a knowledge based instinct than obtained by _real_ experiences. Nines was a look-alike, after all; so why would they give him so many sensations, and to that extent?

Of all humans Nines resented, his creators shined brightest on his list. The longer he was experiencing consciousness, the harder it was for him to see himself as an ally to them and the making of their desires. His main task was to be of use for them, but he was given too many variables to efficiently attain his goals. Too much emotion — boredom, suffisance, grief — for poor, little results in the end.

He was assigned to observe and report the events of the trip, and to bring back whatever new life-form he would encounter, as it had been his predecessors’ use before.

He had studied ever weakness of his crew members, from their basic fear to the micro-manifestations of their past traumas affecting their everyday routine.

Nines had a peculiar, weird obsession with the one human that seemed, to his opinion, to be the less capable of the whole. Sous-Lieutenant Gavin Reed, thirty-three years old; decent physical aptitudes, basic military background, no family, no pets, no hobbies, a deviant dedication for alcohol and cigarettes, little to none brain matter and short of height, too.

Were he here as a punishment? Or per somebody’s else doing? What could bring their agency to choose such a valueless candidate? Nines had watched hundreds of videos of him from confidential archives and public social networks, noting with annoyance that his obsession was morphing into a reliability. He didn’t care that it could affect the mission’s success, he cared that he was caught _caring_ for a something — and a terrible man, at that.

“Robots ain’t the future, they’ll never get how humans think,” Gavin had said in one of his interviews back at their base of command, two years prior, “that’s why you can’t just send them to do your secret bidding.”

“The DAVID series have since long proven their efficiency in a large variety of fields, Agent Reed.”

“Yeah, so do phones and trained rats. You _created_ them, you created what they think and feel; so when they gonna see something non-human, what they gonna do? Jack shit! Because they make sense only to humans and for humans. I tell you, there’s no comparison! They look real all right, but that’s it.”

Nines hadn’t formed an opinion on Gavin’s seemingly generous defiance towards androids. He almost found it funny, to an extent, because he suspected that it may have been the main reason he had been chosen to be a part of their actual mission. To keep an eye on the non-human; to stay skeptical of all and everything; to stay vigilant, always too distrusting.

Maybe Nines saw in him an opportunity to challenge his disdain for humans, or to be entertained — surprised, maybe, or _defied._ This wasn’t professional, logical nor necessary. Nobody had to know. Nines wanted to use his free-will in secret to taste its limits and its global usefulness, in the hope of one day being able to escape his creators’ control. He didn’t intend of becoming another DAVID thrown in every corner of the galaxy until his components began to rot and expire, dooming him as obsolete and desolate. He was… _alive._

***

Cryosleep was basically a longass nap; Gavin never slept for that long, and wasn’t exactly a fan of it. It didn’t really feel right. His body wasn’t aching but the fake air in his lungs made him feel sick. He was trapped in space for God knows how long, with a bunch of assfaces trying to make some obscure discoveries. _Glorious journey,_ that was, knowing that the ones before them hadn’t come back.

He never got the chance to see Anderson again, that son of a bitch.

“Welcome back,” a mechanical voice greeted them. Gavin sent it a nasty look. They hadn’t left, they were here all along, wearing diapers and tubes to bear the fucked-up notion of a passing of time so long it could cover three or four of their families’ generations.

“Coffee,” he grumbles to the voice, his throat tight as a violin string. Speaking was suffering. Too bad, he fucking loves talking. And smoking. Damnit, his need for nicotine awoke so fast, it made him lightheaded. He put his uniform on and stuck three nicotine patches along his arm. The withdrawal was giving him an awful headache.

“Breakfast is served at the dining quarters,” the voice finally replied.

Gavin didn’t remember where it was, but he headed out anyway. Gotta start somewhere.

The door opened and he found himself facing a chest.

He lifted his head to meet a robot’s fakass glassy eyes. “Can I help you, tin can?”

“I’m not made of metal, Gavin.”

“Plastic, whatevs,” Gavin’s voice was so rough it might just break at any moment. “The fuck you’re here for?”

“I wanted to know if you needed any help in easing your waking up.”

“Coffee,” Gavin stupidly repeated, unsure of what that android’s deal was. He wasn’t a big robot lover, and the DAVID series creeped the living shit out of him. They were _almost_ real, yet just fake enough to be some kind of horror-like creatures, Dracula kinda shit. Charming and all but blood-thirsty, or something.

“Yo, DAVID, is Tina awake?”

“My name is Nines,” Gavin was corrected, “and I’m afraid she isn’t yet.”

“Hm…” Gavin gave it some thought. “Why tho’?”

“Her assistance wasn’t yet necessary.”

“And mine was?”

“Indeed.”

“I’m a field agent, you sandwich wrapper. If the ship’s fucking up, you woken up the wrong guy.”

“The ship is in steady condition,” Nines assured him.

They walked in silence for some time. Something was off. Why would only one crew member be awoken if there was no problem? Was there a issue at their destination, some unpredicted danger just now discovered?

Gavin pulled at Nines’ sleeve to stop him from walking. “You gonna tell me what’s _really_ up or do I have to beat it out of you?”

Nines could hear the thin _bitch_ that Gavin almost let slip out. He knew his speech pattern so precisely, he could probably create a speaking AI able to predict his every word. He was obsessed with him, yes, but he couldn’t let his true motive transpire so soon.

“We have been contacted to allow an escape pod to land on our ship.”

“So?”

“I don’t have the authorizations to do so, I’m afraid.”

“Tina’s the captain on board,” Gavin reminded him, trying to prove a point. Why on fucking hell was _he_ the one awake?

“You know the person who contacted us,” Nines replied instead, looking collected as marketed in his series’ great ads campaign. _The perfect companion_ and _The key to a better tomorrow_ , whatever the shit that was meant to mean.

Nines was cataloging every one of Gavin’s intakes and outtakes of air, mesmerized and hungry for more. He had been studying him for so long… Now face to face, he was fully appreciating his rudeness and small figure. Everything about him made no absolute sense, and Nines found it delightful.

“Hank Anderson has requested to be welcomed on board,” Nines finally confessed, savoring the wave of emotions crossing Gavin’s face. Messing with him was the most fun he ever had. He couldn’t wait to see his reaction upon actually _seeing_ Lieutenant Anderson's condition.

“Bring them in! Now!” Gavin shouted, excited and terrified, because he never thought he could ever — that he’d be _fortunate_ enough to see _him_ again. How was he alive? What happened to him? To his expedition? _How the hell did he survive_?!

The rapports were well guarded and the only info really passed amongst the troops were; something went wrong on an hostile planet and the whole crew lost signal and most definitely, their lives. A chaotic, mysterious phenomenon that wasn’t unusual… But Gavin _knew_ Hank. They had been working together for years; he’d try his best to be prepared on time to get picked for his expedition, over-working, making pleas and demands after demands.

But he has been judged under-qualified, at the time. Simply a little bit too young. Just a tiny bit too reckless, rough around the edges… He pissed off some of the wrong people and didn’t get what he wanted..

He had watched in horror the pictures of Hank’s crew hurt, and dying; haunting, horrifying sound files of them all screaming and begging for their lives.

Even their DAVID didn’t make it. The planet ate them all. It got blacklisted, and most of his superiors brushed it off as a _necessary sacrifice._ Sacrifices for useful data. Whispers ran over the troops, though; that it wasn’t a pure coincidence, that there might be more to the story, and surely a double-crossing kind of bullshit between the human part of the crew and the android one.

The DAVID bots had always been used for assimilation. They were the contemporary chameleon in the human gene pool. Gavin won’t trust one of those bitches, even if his life depends on it.

Maybe.

Nines brought him in the pilot room where they had a lovely view on the open space. A black canvas covered in lighted needles but where light couldn’t get. A fucking beautiful anomaly, every fucking thing was in a way.

“Where they at?” Gavin groans, after waiting maybe half a minute for some kind of reveal.

The DAVID looked at him funny. Had been the whole time.

“I must warn you,” Nines began, “what you are about to see may be unnerving.”

“Is that my trigger warning? _Bitch —”_

But Gavin couldn’t finish his train of thought. A screen had popped up out of thin air, from the point of view of a tiny corner camera. Showing the inside of the escape pod covered in —

 _What_ was _that?_ A mixture of blood, dust and — goop? A strange, white glue liquid, thrown over everything in the tiny ship. Like an explosion, but of what? Of… _whom?_

There was no Hank in the picture, anyway. Just an empty pod with shit everywhere. Gavin was grossed out but also so very fucking angry. What kind of stupid game was that robot playing with him? He turned to him one more time, about to — scream at him, or something, just about fed up with all that nonsense. Space was scary enough as it was. No need for more drama and mysteries.

“I swear to God you son of a gun — “

“Look,” Nines pointed, not looking at Gavin, _finally_ , his look fixed on the screen, “here. _This_ is Lieutenant Anderson.”

Gavin frowned, pretty sure of his two eyes not seeing one soul in that pod. He looked closely, trying not to blink in case it was in the flick of a frame, or a bug of some kind.

It jumped at the camera with such speed that Gavin lost his balance and fell over Nines, who took his weight in with no problem, as if he already suspected that kind of reaction.

A black, reptile-like, slick creature was running over a wall and then went back in hiding under the controls cockpit. In its running, the _thing_ grabbed the only chair in there and turned it over, revealing a corpse. A corpse and a head, on his lap.

“What in the hell —”

This was Hank. Belly opened like a blooming flower made of human tissues and bones. His face expressed nothing but utter, complete terror. A look that you couldn’t fake; an impression that left a mental print in Gavin’s mind; something he would never be able to unsee.

The head on his lap was a DAVID face. Softer in form, but pretty much the same. His eyes were wide open, looking at the camera. His lips started moving but no sounds were transmitted back to them.

Gavin tried to search for meaning, explanations, looking back at Nines who was holding him like a scared animal, stroking his hair. He was trembling, and sweating. He was passing out. A fever dream danced behind his eyelids.

He could have sworn the other DAVID had said; _Mission complete._

__


End file.
